


Loud As Lions

by louhearted



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, all sorts of fluff, just two boys in love really, mentions of the other boys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:56:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louhearted/pseuds/louhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is trying to understand Louis. And for a while he is failing miserabley, until Louis explains it himself. </p>
<p>"Considering that no matter how much he sat down and, like, admired what he was like, Louis was still a conundrum. That was the whole point, wasn´t it? Louis was a warm December, a silent lion and a sun with icy eyes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loud As Lions

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! 
> 
> So this is my first ever HarryandLouis drabble, my first HarryandLouis everything to be honest. Plus this will be the first time EVER that I will post something on the Internet. My sketch book at home is full of stupid poems and ideas, but I never had the guts to show it to more than, say, two people. However, two very special people in my life have convinced me to upload this drabble, so here I am. Living dangerously for once. 
> 
> Please don´t be too hard on me.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: www.louhearted.tumblr.com

He never thought he´d be confronted with such a conundrum, he never thought it could exist at all, not in his lifetime --, not ever, if he was being honest with himself. Although he had also never dared dreaming of meeting someone like Louis. So there was that.

Maybe it was just Harry being a complete idiot again. Louis always told him as much. “I´m just me, you imbecile. No one else there, really.”

And Harry knew that, he knew it painfully well, because for him Louis was the only one. He didn’t mean for it to sound sappy, but all he needed was Louis; Louis in the mornings, Louis damp from the shower, Louis crunching his cereal, Louis falling asleep with little kitten sighs – simply Louis. It would probably be for the best to consult someone about his dependency problems and to discuss how healthy such a relationship could actually be, but that was for another day.

Louis didn´t seem to mind at least.

So maybe Harry should stop comparing his boyfriend to the sun. But when a room only filled with light when Louis walked in, what could he do? Spinning the metaphor on, Harry realized that Louis was the one everyone else gravitated towards, the center of attention, the fix point of the band. His comparison wasn´t that far off then, was it? And anyway, Louis was the one Harry snuggled up to at night, tugging his feet between Louis´ calves, not caring about their height difference or how strained his back would be again. The warmth Louis radiated was more important than that. Louis rarely felt cold, or in Harry´s opinion didn´t want to admit to it. Who walked around without socks in autumn?

Louis, that´s who. Idiots and mad men.

So in the end, even when Harry knew that he should stop with his sappy comparisons, he always found a logical explanation behind each and every one of them, letting them stay hidden away in the back of his mind until Louis made him question them again.  
Really, apart from making an idiot out of himself and Louis´ mocking eye roll, there wasn´t a real reason to stop.

And, besides, he still had to figure Louis out. Because someone as warm as Louis shouldn´t remind him of December. But he did! And it wasn´t because of Louis´ birthday. Harry wasn´t that superficial. Honestly, he wasn´t. (Maybe a little bit, but he figured that that wasn´t the main reason nor was it one that satisfied him, so – ).

It was more because of the the colour of his eyes. It wasn´t a blue like Niall´s, warm and sunny and a reminder of a shallow lake in June. It wasn´t the complete opposite either though, because that would mean he had to describe Louis as cold, which he was convinced, would be the worst way to explain Louis.

Winter wasn´t cold per say – it was, but … not like that.

His eyes were like a frozen lake, clear and sparkling, glittering with all the secrets kept beneath that thick blanket of ice. Preserving all the summer´s memories, saving its water´s animals from the unbearable cold that came from outside.

And when he smiled and his eyes got all crinkly and when he reminded Harry of a hedgehog, then – did hedgehogs hibernate? – then his eyes were bright, brighter than the summer´s sun. The sun over a frozen lake was blinding – Louis was blinding and Harry was proud of himself to be able to see him in detail. Not everyone could.

Most people saw Louis as just another loud boy, who tried his hardest to make the other´s laugh, causing mischief on every turn, in every corner.

But Harry got to experience Louis at night, when all his masks were slipped off and his glasses were slipped on. When his fringe flapped down; so soft when the last remnants of product had been washed out, and when his hair curled – yes dammit curled, Harry didn´t know when that had happened either – around his neck and ears.

They rarely paid attention to the way Louis would start to pucker his lips into a more permanent pout when he got tired, his eyes only drooping slightly under his perfectly arched eyebrows. Had Harry studied Louis´ face like a literature graduate would Shakespeare? Yes.

Yet if you listened to the Internet, the answer that reverberated through the virtual world, was No; and that he should change his tattoo parlor seeing as the artists couldn´t get the size of two identical birds right. At first that had made Louis laugh – people are so dumb, Harold. Hazza can you believe this? – but then he´d gotten angry because – they can´t be that blind, H, can´t they see that we … you are trying to say something here? I mean I want to scream sometimes. Aren´t we loud enough yet? – And Harry would tell him: As Loud as Lions.

They were as loud as lions. Louis had sighed softly into Harry´s chest at that point, content for the time being with Harry´s hand in his hair, keeping his screams from ripping him apart.

Louis was loud, so proud to be who he was. But not every lion was heard by the right people – you wanted to attract your family, your allies, not the hunter, never the one who would go in for the kill. No matter how loud he screamed, Harry saw the silent plea to be understood. Their bandmates heard, they listened, they knew so much, but only Harry understood.

Well, when Harry said “understood”, he meant to say that he was merely brave enough to see Louis in detail.

Considering that no matter how much he sat down and, like, admired what he was like, Louis was still a conundrum. That was the whole point, wasn´t it? Louis was a warm December, a silent lion and a sun with icy eyes.

In conclusion Louis had been right from the start, Harry was an imbecile. But he was an imbecile, who was looking for answers, and honestly Louis was no help. They had discussed this many times before. The one time Harry had honestly considered duct taping his boyfriend to make him shut up, had been two months ago. They had been lying in their bunks on the tour bus, basking in the few minutes of peace and quiet the boys always granted them before a show.  
Lying face to face, with their bodies pressed together from chest to toe, legs entangled and hands entwined between them, their fingers sometimes mapping out eachother´s curves, always coming to rest in the middle again.

“Louis?” Harry had whispered. His lips softly ghosting over Louis´ cheeks.

He had taken the low grumble of Louis as confirmation to continue. And so he had. He´d asked him if the sun loved the moon more than the moon loved the sun, because the moon would stay in the sun´s shadow, trying to stay in its orbit, not understanding that the earth, that reason itself, was pulling him back. Did the moon realize that he wasn´t supposed to share the day´s sky with the sun?

“Hazza, what ARE you talking about?” Louis had burrowed his face in the junction of Harry´s shoulder in fond play exasperation.

And Harry had tried to explain, to get his jumbled thoughts in order.

If Louis was the sun and Harry the moon, it was only logical to say that the star burned brighter than the planet. But did the brighter star also love more?

“You´re right Harry, you really aren´t very bright.”

Couldn´t he be serious for a second? Harry had playfully shoved at Louis´ shoulder, earning himself a giggling bite into his neck.

Harry had tried again.

Do you think winter can be warm?

“Yes, in Australia. We´ve been there, remember.” Louis had then proceeded to trace the outline of the two swallows permanently inked into Harry´s skin. And if Louis wouldn´t answer him properly, Harry would have to ask him about that.

“And the lions? If you don´t want to talk about the colours of December – “

“The colours of December? You do have a weakness for sappy nonsense!”

“—If you don´t want to talk about that, then explain the lions to me. They are silently chasing swallows. Are swallows louder than lions?”

“Why have I laid my affections in a crazy person?”

Harry had put on his prettiest pout, furrowing his brows as he had realized that Louis wouldn´t be able to see, seeing as his head had still been snuggled up against Harry. So Harry had turned on his back, pulling Louis on top of him.

Soft fringe against hard features. A conundrum. Louis. Harry´s favourite riddle.

“Stop pouting, love.”

“No.”

“Don´t then. Lost its effect anyway.”

“Liar!”

Louis had mimicked Harry´s affronted look and had tangled both his hands in Harry´s hair, leaning down to kiss the pout away. Harry had immediately responded by pulling Louis closer by his waist, his thumbs in Louis´ belt loops, giving his bum an appreciative squeeze once he had been fully satisfied with Louis´ position above him.

“Why don´t you ever answer my questions?” Hushed words that Harry had been sure Louis would just swallow up, lap a bit at Harry´s bottom lip, as to maybe convey his apologies, but he hadn´t expected an answer.

“Because they are dumb, just like you.”

So that hadn´t been an answer either.

“Lou …”

“Shush and kiss me, you fool!”

 

Only weeks later, when Louis thought that Harry was asleep, did he give an answer, whispering it against the soft hairs at Harry´s nape.

Never has it been harder to keep quiet for such a long time, because after only a few seconds of Louis´ quiet mumble, Harry had wanted to turn around and kiss the living daylights out of the boy lying behind him. Yet he was sure that if he so much as twitched, Louis would stop. This was meant to be for Louis. Harry wasn´t even supposed to be awake, let alone listen in.

Trying to focus on the thrum of Louis´ fingers against his hipbone, Harry kept still and soaked the murmured promises of love and forever into his skin, letting it rush into his bloodstream like a new tattoo, keeping it forever, for everyone to see, everyone brave enough to face it.

“I love you, Hazza. I love your stupid idea of me representing your sun and I love your dorky comparisons to winter, even though we both know you´re just mixing up my birthday with your weird impressions of how I should be described. I´m not a riddle, Harry, far from a conundrum. It´s just little old me. You´re confusing me with something bigger here, babe. Us. I´m not the sun and you´re not the moon. I´m in no way brighter – only you Harry, only you would phrase it like that - than you and you don´t love me more than I do. We´ve discussed this. You tie me down when I´m lost and I point you home when you´re down. You´re my anchor and I´m your compass. We fit and that is the only thing that you should have trouble understanding. Because we stood no chance against the world, yet here we are. Together on top of it.”

Louis pressed a lingering kiss to Harry´s neck.

“I´m not worth solving, Hazza. Let´s just keep on screaming and hoping that we will be heard this time around.”

He sighed and pressed his cheek against Harry´s shoulder blade.

“G´night.”

And even though Harry still had questions, he knew that he had Louis all figured out in the end, concerning the parts where it mattered most. He had never heard Louis roar louder than that night. It still echoed in his head: Those hushed whispers of promises.

It was HarryandLouis, them against the world. Forever.


End file.
